tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-47888408434323565372024-03-08T10:31:53.833-08:00finding Home/|\ Mukihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05959319700220999740noreply@blogger.comBlogger185125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4788840843432356537.post-78533131736331293002009-11-22T14:23:00.000-08:002009-11-22T14:41:10.701-08:00purpose...i've been living on blue-green algae, caffeine, and protein bars.<br />hardly the breakfast of champions.<br />eh, but, very low carb...<br /><br />i take walks everyday outside (or try to) to remind myself of what the air feels like on my cheeks.<br />i like to see the trees.<br />the cars and the noise i can do without.<br /><br />i catch up on phone calls when i walk.<br />i even have a jawbone bluetooth thingy so i can talk 'hands-free.'<br /><br />i remember the Philippines when i take these walks.<br />i remember walking in the rice fields.<br />and to the palengke.<br />and to the church.<br />and to the tiangge on Mondays.<br /><br />i remember walking to Rowell's house.<br />and fetching water from the pump.<br />i remember falling asleep to crickets and the whirring fan at night.<br /><br />those things really happened, i tell myself, lest i forget.<br /><br />here, my to-do list never seems to diminish.<br />here, so many things are 'time-sensitive.'<br />here, the weather is crisp and cold.<br />here, it's harder to feel Kapwa.<br />here, things move a lot faster.<br />here, it feels harder to catch up.<br />here, i feel out of place, "too emotional."<br /><br />here, is Home, too.<br /><br />i tell myself, it will get better.<br />i tell myself, to just keep swimming.<br />i tell myself, i'm sorry it's so hard.<br />i tell myself, that i must be my own Witness.<br /><br />i tell myself:<br />there is purpose to this pain.<br />there is purpose to this pain.<br />there is purpose to this pain./|\ Mukihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05959319700220999740noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4788840843432356537.post-34333634496755269772009-11-09T20:58:00.000-08:002009-11-09T21:20:35.342-08:00another levelmy heart feels heavy.<br />with grief.<br /><br />unmet expectations really suck.<br />unexpected challenges do too, if you ask me.<br /><br />it is one thing to know that a situation <span style="font-style:italic;">isn't</span> impossible.<br />it is another to <span style="font-style:italic;">feel</span> like it utterly is.<br /><br />i remember my meta-choice.<br />it helps me stay on track.<br /><br />i never imagined it would be so hard to stay on track.<br /><br />this is another level of learning.<br />my Freedom is around here somewhere.<br /><br />if i just let go of my psoas muscles...<br />if i just let this lump in my throat dissolve...<br />if i just trust that there is purpose to this pain...<br /><br />i've been distracted and distant.<br />i'm getting weary.<br />this isn't what i expected.<br /><br />okay.<br />okay, dear Me.<br /><br />grieve it.<br />grieve it fully.<br />it was a beautiful dream.<br /><br />and then, get up again.<br />and meet what's actually here.<br /><br />some losses we don't ever get over.<br />we just learn how to manage our lives despite them.<br /><br />i wonder if this is that kind of loss.<br />time will tell./|\ Mukihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05959319700220999740noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4788840843432356537.post-80863425638674580742009-10-17T20:49:00.000-07:002009-10-17T20:56:22.597-07:00fallen to the earth...i can't yet write about it myself--about my transition back.<br />i'm still wide-eyed and in it.<br /><br />soon tho. <br />soon, i hope.<br /><br />here's a blog entry written by my friend, Leny.<br />she often has words that describe the indescribable.<br />especially when it comes to decolonization and journeys Home.<br /><br />Len, maraming, maraming salamat.<br />lubya.<br />thank you for your exquisite Witness, in this, and in all things...<br /><br /><br />***<br /><br /><br />Friday, October 16, 2009<br />This blog is for my friends, Muki and Grace, who have recently returned from their long sojourns in the homeland and processing the return to this place that is also home.<br /><br />My Buddhist friend, Gail, used to remind me to slow down and take my time after returning from my trips to Pampanga. She saw my weepiness, my homesickness, my blank stares, my struggle to return to my life. Sometimes this processing would last longer than the two-week jet lag. I often expressed my fear to her that I might not emerge from this fog and that I would be sad forever. I needed Gail as a witness and she was a very good witness. She held me gently and honored what I was going through. No attempt to rush or analyze. Just a gentle presence.<br /><br />I think of her now and I wish to be that kind of witness for my friends. But we are not in the same city. Would facebook chat do? Would email suffice? Would a phone call be enough?<br /><br />**<br />I am re-reading "The Woman Who Watches Over the World" again. And this time, I noticed passages that escaped me the last time. Linda writes that, in retrospect, her days of falling down to the earth when she was too drunk to walk upright, was her body's attempt to fall to the earth. Literally. Her body's need to reconnect and hear the calling of the earth. The earth calling her back, inviting her to rest and be healed in the earth's bosom.<br /><br />This is a very poignant passage to me. As I think about how the body carries history and how this history has been a wound for indigenous peoples, it is comforting to think that we can fall to the earth and be healed.<br /><br />This is such a difficult concept to think about when I think of the devastation from the recent typhoons in the Philippines and the people, animals, trees, rocks that were all displaced. My first sympathies always lie in human suffering. This is my conditioning. But I am also learning how to enlarge my sympathies to the rest of creation. Where does it lead but to the feeling of awe and respect for processes that my mind cannot contain or that language cannot articulate?Time stretches and space expands until the contours of a cosmology begin to manifest and becomes a source of calm and peace. Yet the suffering is real, the losses are real. My body feels this.<br />**<br />Dear Muki and Grace, I imagine the struggle to be present in the body even as the mind pulls us away to our beloved archipelago. The body longs for the comfort and the feeling of knowing that it belongs to the land and kapwa over there. The body longs for the humidity that saturates the skin. It longs for the sounds - both natural and man made. It longs for the smells, taste, sights. It longs for the familiar. It is October and our ears ring with carols as we know that Christmas starts in the 'Ber' months over there. We long for the fluidity of life over there that makes people open and available to each other's hospitality and generosity. We long for the sense of kapwa. We long to belong to the earth and over there it feels a little easier to do so.<br /><br />We long for these feelings and wish to recreate them here. But how? It is even hard to find people to talk to who would know what this struggle is about. Even our loved ones are impatient and they want to see us move on already. They want answers from us. Our ambiguity is unsettling to them. What are we mirroring? And can we create those conversations?<br /><br />I think of you as I write this. I am thinking that I could have picked up the phone and called you instead. I am thinking that you might not be available. I am thinking that I think too much.<br /><br />But I will talk to you soon and commune with you soon. Love to you.<br /><br />posted by Leny @ 2:19 PM/|\ Mukihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05959319700220999740noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4788840843432356537.post-36797211995560001172009-09-13T22:07:00.000-07:002009-09-13T22:18:12.080-07:00backi've been back 5 days, and it already feels like a month.<br />i blink and a whole Universe opens up.<br />i blink again, and it's gone.<br /><br />i've been sleeping 3-4 hours a night.<br />things at the Center are familiar and unfamiliar.<br />it's cold.<br /><br />we have our big fundraiser on Saturday.<br /><br />i'm emotional.<br />and lonely.<br />and devastated.<br /><br />and okay.<br />then, not okay.<br /><br />sounds like grief, doesn't it?<br />only...<br />i don't even know what i'm grieving.<br /><br />i just know it's deep.<br />and heartbreaking.<br />and will eventually unfold in bits.<br />and one day, blindside me.<br /><br />i feel desperate for a Witness.<br />there is none.<br />i'll just have to be my own.<br /><br />who else knows what this feels like?/|\ Mukihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05959319700220999740noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4788840843432356537.post-42758393327107815062009-09-03T21:03:00.000-07:002009-09-05T00:12:02.604-07:00the perfume of packingi’m burning the copal that Miguel gave me over 2 years ago before i left.<br />we were carpooling home together from the ‘Loin, and we stopped in that one shop whose name i always forget on Valencia down the street from Osento in the Mission.<br /><br />he bought copal.<br />i bought a set of cards.<br /><br />the resin bubbles as the fire catches.<br />i was always afraid to burn it before.<br />afraid i didn’t have the proper vessel.<br />or didn’t know how to do it ‘right.’<br /><br />unafraid, i light it now.<br />(and keep lighting it; it keeps burning out.)<br />it smells like the incense they burn at church.<br />i place it on one of the pink plates that Uma and Mitra brought back from Japan.<br />the woodsy fragrance fills my nostrils, as i watch a fat ribbon of black smoke writhe and slither up into the air.<br />i feel the heat, let the flame singe the hairs on my knuckle, almost burning my skin.<br />a flood of memories come back. <br /><br />i remember my first fire ceremony.<br />the smell of the land in the Santa Cruz mountains.<br />i remember the burden that ‘Bino bears.<br />that when he is Called, he must come.<br />i remember my Teacher calling him…for us.<br />i remember basking in the reflected light between these two Great Friends.<br />i remember Jr. and how everyone swooned.<br />i remember the dark.<br />and Thuy hyperventilating, then shrieking.<br />i remember feeling curious.<br />and open.<br />i remember feeling like my lips, nostrils, and eyelids were on fire.<br />i remember seeing green sparks.<br />i remember putting my cheek to the earth to find coolness.<br /><br />i remember the second fire ceremony, the following year.<br />i was not allowed inside.<br />my moon had just finished and i was still too powerful and potent to enter.<br />everyone else was inside.<br />i waited outside and sang songs softly to myself and the trees.<br />and thought about the Philippines.<br />and watched as, one by one, they emerged from the fire’s womb, gulping the cool air and afternoon sun, glistening and sweating.<br /><br />when i was helping prepare the space, i found a red diamond shaped rock.<br />it was so rough and light.<br />it stayed in my pocket for years after that.<br />i remember finding it again when i was wandering the cordilleras.<br />pleased to rub it between my fingers again, feeling it snag my skin.<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">let the fire change you, Muki.</span><br /><br />that’s what i heard this morning, as i lit another candle for Ligaya’s Papa.<br />that’s why i lit the copal, i guess.<br />that’s why i will light incense all day and fill my little place with warmth and light.<br /><br />outside, it’s grey and cool.<br />and sprinkling.<br />the sky is crying tears that i’m not.<br />i’ve cried so much already.<br /><br />the lights were flickering on and off this morning.<br />the fan’s motor whirring on and off, sputtering.<br />i’m amidst boxes and stuff.<br />copious amounts of stuff.<br /><br />i had been hoping to go to baguio, as my last trip before i return to the States.<br />i realize it was another kind of distraction, procrastination.<br />i won’t go.<br />i need to fully unpack so that i can pack.<br /><br />it’s painful this process.<br />i don’t want to do it.<br />people have offered to help me.<br />pero, paano?<br /><br />i go through each thing…remembering.<br />with each thing, i decide if it goes or stays.<br />weighing it, literally, figuratively, emotionally.<br />it is an alone process.<br /><br />two came yesterday and lingered.<br />i sent them away.<br />i want to be alone in this.<br /><br />i made arrangements for a van to bring me to the airport on Tuesday.<br />i’ll go early.<br />i’ll have excess baggage fees to pay.<br />this will be the last time that i pay for that.<br />no more excess baggage for me.<br />even when i go home, i know there are boxes of things yet at my parents’ house and Center to go thru and release.<br />no more holding onto things that are not useful, no longer needed.<br />after Sit For Change, there will be a great releasing.<br /><br />i found pockets of things that i never unpacked from the clinic.<br />a stash of incense, sweet cedar, and sage.<br />green rocks and pebbles from the beach and alien windmills in ilocos norte.<br />i assemble a makeshift incense holder from a ceramic cup and those pebbles, and i will burn it all today.<br /><br />i gave all of my agnihotra supplies to Bahay Ginhawa.<br />i will buy a new pyramid when i am settled in Berkeley.<br />it will be my welcome Home present to myself.<br /><br />i’m sitting at my dining table, underneath the window.<br />the raindrops splash off the slats of glass and microdrops wet my shoulders.<br />i’m itchy and rub alcohol on my neck and back to cool.<br /><br />tiny red ants have taken refuge in this messy house of mine. <br />i find them everywhere.<br />in bed. <br />in my ears.<br />in the toaster oven.<br /><br />i’m still wearing eyeliner from going out last night. <br />mac: shit still looks good, even the morning after.<br />that’s come in handy a couple 3-4 times.<br />pampanga friends took me out to fancy dinner last night.<br />i didn’t even have to drive.<br />it was hard to sleep alone last night, after all the merriment.<br /><br />today is my power moon day.<br />the moon and planets will be in the same position tonight that they were 35 years ago on my birth day. tonight, i will have a dream that will offer me a glimpse into what the year has in store for me. i remember the one i had last year…<br />an added bonus: last day of my moon today.<br />this must be some kind of triple whammy.<br /><br />my house smells like rain, sweet cedar, and sage.<br />my skin smells like rubbing alcohol, sweat, and tears.<br />this is the new perfume of packing./|\ Mukihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05959319700220999740noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4788840843432356537.post-5386733273816443062009-08-18T04:08:00.000-07:002009-08-18T04:12:47.649-07:00a tiger in the Lion Cityi’m on another plane.<br />this time from Singapore to Clark.<br />good to be going home.<br />(did park and fly; hope Pipsy starts.)<br />tho, i’ll only be home for a day.<br />(pray for sunshine; i have laundry to do…)<br />and then i turn around and fly to davao to visit betsy in makilala.<br />don bosco, Dra. Moon’s clinic, paradise island, aldevinco, marang, and mangosteen… here i come.<br /><br />i enjoyed my stay in Singapore.<br />with new friends. <br />friends who, quite literally, i only met a couple of weeks ago.<br />we met in palawan at Pi and Lisette’s healing space.<br />we were slipping around on red mud; riding down bumpy, dusty roads in jeeps and trikes; riding boats in dark caves and on underground rivers, pumping water out of the ground; eating our food off of banana leaves with our hands; cooking, laughing; playing guitar; meditating; dancing; healing; drumming…<br /><br />in Singapore, i stayed in their swanky pad.<br />10th floor.<br />wi-fi.<br />fine art, from both established and emerging Filipino painters and sculptors.<br />leather chaises.<br />clean lines.<br />fendi throw pillows.<br />remote controlled air conditioners, in every room.<br />chic.<br /><br />i’m acutely aware of my ability to move in and out of these two kinds of worlds equally well. <br />i’m grateful for that particular straddle ability.<br />flexy-bendy.<br /><br />i’ll be taking outdoor showers at the farm of Betsy soon.<br />i am grateful for that.<br />even if there are yellow frogs stuck to the shower curtain.<br />(reminds me that i have to get batteries for my flashlight…)<br /><br />my friend Dane, a fellow Fil-Am, played Singapore tour guide extraordinaire for 5 glorious days.<br /><br />i went to all kinds of malls in Singapore.<br />it most certainly is a concrete jungle.<br />a strangely sedate one.<br />and an extremely clean one.<br /><br />nicest and cleanest public toilets.<br />well stocked with a plethora of toilet paper.<br />and even toilet seat liquid antiseptic cleanser dispensers in each stall.<br />automatic flush that didn’t rush you or splash back.<br /><br />i think my favorite part of the public toilets were the squat toilets. <br />i like those the best. <br />i wish they had those in the states.<br />i’m not sure why.<br />just seems natural to go like that.<br /><br />there were free public hand sanitizer dispensers everywhere.<br />elevators.<br />escalators.<br />bathrooms.<br />mrt.<br /><br />i was so curious about the prayer rooms i would see around.<br />there were separate ones for women and men. <br />i really wanted to peek into one; i didn’t tho.<br /><br />i can’t even name all things that i ate.<br />i visited umpteen hawker centers and food courts.<br />Singaporean.<br />Chinese.<br />Indian.<br />Malaysian.<br />grabe.<br /><br />eating and shopping are the national pastimes, and they take each one rather seriously.<br />nicest public library i’ve ever been in.<br />apparently, Singapore is one of the richest countries in asia. <br />no deficit, according to Dane.<br /><br />i somehow managed to attend a lecture/workshop on essential oils and their therapeutic uses. also went to Malaysia for a couple of hours. right hand drive was funny. i kept looking the wrong way before crossing the street. played the lotto. i even went to ikea.<br />i liked how all the public signs were in 4 different languages. halal food everywhere.<br />mass transit easy and smooth. parang may konting konti gulo talaga. <br /><br />i just realized how tired i feel.<br />all this zipping around.<br />someone asked me when i will rest. <br />i told them that the plane ride home to the states is 12+ hours…<br />malapit na./|\ Mukihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05959319700220999740noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4788840843432356537.post-12440123270497772992009-08-16T16:37:00.000-07:002009-08-16T16:46:25.263-07:00for goodin the last 2 weeks:<br />zarraga<br />caticlan<br />boracay<br />singapore<br />malaysia.<br /><br />next 2 weeks:<br />davao<br />dumaguete<br />baguio<br />sagada<br /><br />september 1:<br />turn 35<br />birthday/despedida party<br /><br />september 8:<br />climb on a plane in manila <br />and twelve hours later (or so),<br />land in san francisco<br />drive across the bay bridge <br />to berkeley<br />back to Center<br />to begin again./|\ Mukihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05959319700220999740noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4788840843432356537.post-22800883501583346612009-08-05T07:07:00.000-07:002009-08-05T07:17:18.103-07:00Being human*alternate title: <br />the ransomed, the shephard, and the witness<br /><br />From Jae G’s facebook status the other day:<br />"None of the ransomed ever knew/How deep were the waters crossed..." A friend shared this verse with me eight years ago. He found it written in his dad's diary. The context was martial law and the ensuing revolution. Cory's death triggered the memory. It was written by Elizabeth Clephane in reference to the biblical story of the shepherd and the lost sheep.<br /><br />my 4am response:<br />perhaps, it is the rain. or in my case, the gusts of wind that just now woke me up (blowing in the rain!). it's also because of Tita Cory. i am reminded that i am one of the ransomed; i am also the shepherd. and gratefully, i am also the witness to myself and others being both. i'm experiencing the heartbreaking awareness of the exquisite joy and sorrows of what it means to embody my full humanity. i am amazed at the depth and breadth of our capacity. it's a tremendous responsibility AND opportunity. <br />such a privilege!/|\ Mukihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05959319700220999740noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4788840843432356537.post-65684163073915880622009-07-24T20:35:00.000-07:002009-07-24T20:56:23.790-07:00right downam at Bahay Kalipay, using Pi's wittle ittle computer.<br />precarious and tempermental little cutie (the computer, that is.)<br />it's ergonomically challenging to use it. <br />one false move and the cord LAN line gets disconnected.<br />just look at it cross-eyed, and you'll see. <br />the power cord is plugged into an outlet above my head that likes to fall out of the socket and bonk me. <br /> <br />aray ko.<br />and, i'm sitting on this narrow bamboo couch, contorting 'cause why again...<br /><br />kasi, naka-adik na ako sa facebook.<br />and i wanted to check my gmail.<br />and i wanted to check fares to iloilo (next trip).<br />and, and, and.<br /><br />got this Junot Diaz quote from my friend Michelle's fb status:<br /><br />'Immigration is a process that tends to self-select certain kinds of people, which is a way of saying that immigrants tend to be superhuman already. To leave everything behind takes a superhuman act of will, even for those who did it accidentally or flippantly.'<br /><br />i get this one. right down to my bones.<br />i think about my parents and all they've endured.<br />i think of me and all that i've endured.<br />immigrant.<br />yes, i am an immigrant.<br />it's a label that i've eschewed for most of my life.<br />part of my decolonization process has been reclaiming it. <br />not celebrating it or abhoring it.<br />not embracing it or pushing it away.<br />just accepting it.<br />letting it in finally...<br />to take her rightful place.<br /><br />it should be noted that my process in accepting it involved celebrating it and embracing it as well as abhoring and pushing it away. the only way i could find the middle was, first, to define the boundaries. or does the middle define the boundaries. sometimes. and, in this case, in particular, i did it baliktad.<br /><br />i think about finding Home. <br />what home is.<br />what Home is.<br /><br />i think about my Path.<br />and how a lot of it has been about renunciation.<br />not in a derelict or violent way.<br />or even showy or martyr-flavored.<br /><br />all the labels and identities need to be put down, so that it is clear if they are meant to be taken up again. <br />even how they are to be taken up again.<br />it's been an interesting journey.<br /><br />i realize that i have been somewhat influenced by this insidious misconception that this 'annihilation' of sorts is violent and somehow final.<br /><br />it's not.<br />nothing lasts.<br /><br />i have to be willing to put it all down.<br />so that i know what makes sense to pick up again.<br /><br />what i pick up i can re-shape, re-imagine so that it is more useful and intentional.<br />this kind of tinkering implies a deeper process of knowing myself, knowing the stuff i'm made of. knowing what i inherited. knowing what i developed. knowing what is actual and useful and actually useful. and knowing what is just drama.<br /><br />what a big, big learning.<br />what a shift.<br />what a life./|\ Mukihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05959319700220999740noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4788840843432356537.post-20654478913084071622009-07-20T05:48:00.000-07:002009-07-20T05:54:20.836-07:00New Light Churchi dozed off this afternoon during the afternoon rain.<br />i woke up, and i heard gospel music.<br />i thought i was in Berkeley.<br />there is this church next to the Center called New Light Church.<br />on Sundays, the minister there rocks it out.<br />and, i woke up earlier thinking it was Sunday in Berkeley.<br />strange.<br />i'm here in Sta. Rita.<br />the singing i heard was a neighbor, across the street, singing videoke.<br />for the second night in a row./|\ Mukihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05959319700220999740noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4788840843432356537.post-13513176713434263352009-07-20T05:46:00.000-07:002009-07-20T05:47:32.157-07:00jeep to Guaguafor my big adventure, i took a jeep to Guagua today.<br />i had to get money from the bank to pay for rent and things.<br />it’s been raining, so i expected it to be a little flooded.<br />BAHA.<br />i was walking in water that came up mid-calf.<br />i threw up in my mouth a little when i thought of the raw sewage and hepatitis that MUST be swirling around in it. i hated the feeling of floating plastic bags lingering around my ankles. i hated looking down at the murky brackish water and seeing the rainbow slick of oil on top. ewww. <br /><br />brown low top converse.<br />i may leave those behind when i leave.<br /><br />i continue to unpack. <br />today would have been a good day to do laundry, if i had my act together.<br />i so don’t have my act together.<br /><br />i’m thinking of going to manila tomorrow.<br />need to get some plane tix. <br /><br />nainis ako kanina.<br />Sherwin was asking me for money to help pay for repairs for my car that he wrecked 6 weeks ago.<br />grrr.<br />Pipsy is still out of commission.<br />nainis ako talaga.<br /><br />it occurs to me how much i dislike packing and unpacking.<br />blech.<br />i’m getting better at not overpacking.<br />sort of.<br />everything i own is wrinkled at the moment.<br />i just threw things into my suitcase all haphazard when i left the states.<br /><br />roosters crowing. <br />yes, i missed that in the states.<br /><br />grey outside ulit.<br />the afternoon rain is coming./|\ Mukihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05959319700220999740noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4788840843432356537.post-36858747067299169232009-07-19T11:03:00.000-07:002009-07-19T11:05:14.876-07:00unpacking...a little gecko, about an inch long greeted me hello in the spoon rest, next to my stove in the kitchen this morning. <br />a kind of love and appreciation swoll up in me as i entered my apartment yesterday. <br />Rowell.<br />he cleaned.<br />perhaps, it is the Virgo in me... <br />coming home to a clean space is one of the best gifts ever.<br />today, he came over and we ate Fatima’s thighs.<br />i am convinced they taste like we are licking pink rose petals.<br />i did some unpacking today.<br />figurative, that is.<br />the literal is still strewn about my (ahem, clean) place.<br />i am eating this stale Trader Joe’s trail mix.<br />(i gotta stop.)<br />yesterday, first thing, i went to the palengke and bought load for my cell phone and computer. then, 2 carrots, a cucumber, a bunch of lemongrass, a huge hunk of young ginger, and 6 eggs. oh, and 2 fresh buko. set me back p130, which is less than $3.<br />it’s 1:37am on monday.<br />and i am acutely aware that i’m being antisocial and sleeping during waking hours and waking during sleeping hours.<br />my door is closed, so folks can’t peek in.<br />i brought no pasalubong home except for Fatima’s thighs for Rowell.<br />i just finished bathing with my bucket and tabo.<br />i used Rashmi’s amber soap.<br />i love that i can smell her here.<br />she and Pete got married here after all.<br />i inhale sharply the skin on my arm and i imagine her hugging me.<br />it’s a bit of comfort amidst all this unpacking.<br />i have this vague feeling that i don’t belong here anymore.<br />i don’t know if it is real or not.<br />am i creating it so that it is easier for me to let go?<br />is Inang Bayan saying, “go na, Anak,”?<br />i can hardly say.<br />time will tell i think.<br />i don’t know what time it is if i don’t look at my phone or this computer.<br />it’s grey for most of the day.<br />it rainy and cool.<br />i have to unpack literally soon.<br />i just remembered a wet bathing suit somewhere in there…<br />no, wait, i washed it.<br />phew.<br />been writing and sleeping.<br />and sleeping and writing.<br />like there is no other thing./|\ Mukihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05959319700220999740noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4788840843432356537.post-77452770009214037102009-06-26T06:40:00.000-07:002009-06-26T06:44:39.628-07:00tightnessi woke up an hour ago.<br />psoas tight.<br />knot in my throat. <br />wanna sob.<br /><br />home here.<br />home there.<br />Home everywhere.<br /><br />a fellow Healer died a week ago.<br />our lives intertwined.<br /><br />desperate need for integration time.<br />feeling desperate.<br /><br />release./|\ Mukihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05959319700220999740noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4788840843432356537.post-45881577583905412162009-06-11T02:55:00.000-07:002009-06-11T03:08:48.501-07:00Dolores and the toxinsi’m about to live yesterday all over again.<br />which may not be necessarily a bad thing.<br />(like a do-over.)<br /><br />we just crossed the international date line.<br />and according to the screen thingy, only 5 hours and 3,042 miles left ‘til we land in san francisco.<br /><br />and, in case you are wondering, we are cruising at 37,000 feet with an outside temperature of -67 degrees Fahrenheit, with a true airspeed of 537 mph. an airplane is a hellava place to detox (more on this later).<br /><br />perhaps i really needed this kind of altitude to properly get some perspective on how these last weeks have unfolded. <br />(i just had a flash of Pi climbing his coconut trees. what a view!)<br /><br />before i go further, i’d just like to say whoever named PAL coach the “fiesta class” is a rather sardonic, ironic type. and i’d like to smack him around a bit. the only fiesta-like thing about coach is how we’re all crammed in here like it’s barrio fiesta. i should know, because sta. rita just had our fiesta time. in “fiesta” class there are no yummy things to eat. no shiny banners. nor tuba players. nor parades. and for me (and the rest of unfortunate row # 61), at least on PR Flight No. 104 on the 9th of June, MNL to SFO, there is no overhead reading light, no flight attendant call button, no sound, no movies, nor crappy airline radio. the panels are busted.<br /><br />and, rest assured,i will be writing a <span style="font-weight:bold;">strongly </span>worded letter to PAL after this (titani homage to jack). maybe i can get a service upgrade or some mabuhay miles.<br /><br />i hope i get something. <br /><br />because for 12 hours, i can’t read nor write nor watch the movies nor listen to pinoy pop, nor j-pop, nor broadway favorites on PAL radio. thank goodness i really had no interest in the movies offered (pink panther 2, B cop movie, hotel for dogs, and one other that i forget.) if it had been the reader or some sappy tagalog romance, i might of transformed into the ugly American. and thank goodness i had Poddie ni Muki with me, so i could hear some sounds.<br /><br />other saving graces have been the lola and lolo sitting next to me, to my right.<br />and the chubby toddler sitting in front of me.<br /><br />the lola and lolo are immigrating to the states.<br />they look to me in their 70’s or nearing them.<br />when Lola Dolores told me they are moving to the states, i unexpectedly felt a deep sadness. her tone of voice suggested excitement. her facial expression din. but her eyes reflected a deep sadness. like everything was trying to convince her eyes to go along. i glimpsed it tho. i had just read earlier somewhere today that the eyes are the window of the soul. i’ve heard that before, of course. and, i don’t think i quite understood it like this. i could be spinning it any which way, coloring this experience with my own thoughts and feelings, but, i don’t think so. those dark glistening eyes of hers showed me something, for a moment, in a moment. <br /><br />Lola Dolores had just gotten off the phone with her relatives in Nueva Viscaya.<br />i heard her saying to her apo, “Anak, dapat mag-aral ka mabuti. listen to your Ate. Love you. Love you. Love you so much. Love. Love. Love. See you.”<br /><br />when she said, “See you,” i could hear in her voice that she didn’t really believe herself either.<br /><br />she calls me “Anak” through the flight.<br />i help her open the packets of coffee creamer and fill out the forms we have to fill out when we enter the US. i show her how to unlock her cell phone so that she can properly turn it off.<br /><br />i like being called “Anak” by her. it’s soothing, in a way, to both of us. kanina, her husband dropped his ring on the floor in the middle of the flight, and with no lights, it wasn’t much fun trying to find it. but, we found it.<br /><br />i wanted to ask her why they were moving to the states.<br />they are past working age.<br />the daughter that they plan to live with is single, with no children, and no plans to marry.<br />how does she feel about leaving the Philippines?<br />what does she anticipate?<br />what are her expectations?<br />why, why, why?<br /><br />but, i was shy.<br />and something in her eyes asked me not ask.<br />or maybe that’s just me.<br /> <br />the chubby toddler in front of me has such a round face.<br />and the cutest straight little white teeth.<br />he shows them all off when he smiles at me.<br />which, i am happy to report, is often.<br />he must be 3 going on 4.<br />his dad looks Korean or Japanese.<br />his mom is Pinay.<br /><br />before i got on the flight, i decided to get a massage at the airport.<br />mahal (by Philippine standards), very inexpensive (by US standards), AND so worth it, imho.<br />i had this really, super duper, skilled massage therapist.<br /><span style="font-style:italic;">he worked me out</span>.<br />in the last two weeks, these wicked muscle knots have taken up residence in my shoulders. <br />strange.<br />this hasn’t happened in like 2 years or so.<br />and, i’m reminded, that i am cleansing.<br />i completed my Level II Reiki training a couple of weeks ago.<br />and lately, i’ve been doing a lot of Reiki healing with myself and with others.<br />so, i’m clearing, and i guess that’s where those things are coming from.<br />i drank so much water after that massage to help flush the toxins.<br />no joke, i must have gone to the bathroom 20 times on this flight.<br />(it’s all about the aisle seat…)<br />a couple of times, i got really nauseated and almost threw up from air turbulance and who knows what else?<br />prolly that crappy little sandwich i ate in the mabuhay lounge.<br />and, yah, maybe the toxins./|\ Mukihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05959319700220999740noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4788840843432356537.post-46012305211064000652009-06-09T06:10:00.000-07:002009-06-09T06:31:21.644-07:00swine flui'm sitting in the mabuhay lounge at ninoy aquino airport in manila.<br />arroz caldo (yum) and dry bread-soggy filling sandwiches (blech).<br /><br />all of these rich kid pinoy types to my right.<br />mestizo looks.<br />hipster clothing.<br />american accents.<br />floppy hair. <br />latest apple computers and PSP thingys.<br /><br />older folks to my left. <br />paring chinoys.<br />matching luggage and garment bags.<br />sitting quietly.<br />arms folded.<br /><br />someone's cell phone has the same ring tone as me.<br />it confuses me.<br /><br />there are some people wearing surgical masks.<br />swine flu.<br />there was talk of delaying the start of classes in manila because of the swine flu.<br />jodie texted the other day saying that everyone is panicking about swine flu.<br />i texted back how we are rather excitable, as a people.<br /><br />i haven't been infected with the hysteria.<br />i think it's because i haven't been watching tv.<br />(i don't have one.)<br />also, i haven't been listening to the radio.<br />(i don't have one of those either.)<br /><br />so, i hadn't heard./|\ Mukihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05959319700220999740noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4788840843432356537.post-67778839424825374362009-06-05T14:03:00.000-07:002009-06-05T14:05:56.850-07:00Pipsit’s 2:29am, and i was awoken by lightning. or some kind of flashes of light. <br />some outside of my window. some in my bedroom. some in the sala.<br /><br />i don’t know what they were.<br />if they were in my dream.<br />or if they were ‘real.’<br />curiously, i’m not feeling scared.<br />or even really wanting to know what they heck they were.<br />anyway, i’m awake.<br />and, i’m following the impulse to write this.<br /><br />it’s the 5th straight day of rain.<br />i’m a little stir crazy. <br />i’ve gone out just once to fetch water and go to the palengke.<br />otherwise, i’ve been home.<br />cleaning.<br />spending too much time on facebook.<br />mentally packing for my trip on tuesday.<br />watching movies on my laptop.<br />reading.<br />writing.<br />cooking.<br />i made sopas yesterday.<br />i used the bones from the lechon manok i bought the night i came home from baguio to make chicken stock.<br />i bought carrot, celery, onions, and garlic from the palengke the other day.<br />i had evaporated milk and macaroni in the pantry.<br />and just for kicks, i added a beaten egg to the whole thing.<br />yum.<br />it’s perfect soup weather.<br />and pan-toasted pan de sal. <br /><br />i made pancakes, too.<br />there’s this chain of stores here called ‘healthy options.’<br />there’s only like 7 of them in the whole country. 2 are in Pampanga.<br />it has all of these organic products from the states.<br />soymilks, nutmilks, paul newman stuff, red mill stuff, kettle chips, dagoba chocolate, real maple syrup, Jason beauty products, couscous, homeopathic remedies, etc. <br />it’s pretty expensive, even by US standards, and i am grateful that there exists such a place; i gladly plunk down my money when i need a fix.<br />i bought this 12 wholegrain extra chu-chu fiber pancake mix some months ago.<br />it’s almost gone na.<br />and i made 3 pancakes for dinner last night.<br />i have enough mix i think for 3 or 4 more pancakes.<br /><br /><br />for morning merienda, i cut up an apple.<br />and ate it with peanut butter.<br />and not Ludy’s or Lily’s. too much sugar.<br />i had this peanut butter i got at rizal dairy when i went to visit Jodie that one time.<br />no sugar. just peanuts.<br />it’s fairly thick because i keep in the ref.<br /><br />all my spoons and forks and knives i use here are made of bamboo.<br />some were given to me by Simha before i left. some i bought when i was in Japantown last year during one of the many visits i made to the states.<br />i remember the surprise when one morning, this peanut butter snapped one of the knives. <br />i was so sad and i remember thing, “o, sayang yung $2 ko.”<br />so, i know to use the sturdy bamboo knife with this peanut butter.<br /><br />i haven’t spent this much time at home here for a long while.<br />even when i am home, i go to san fernando or angeles for something or another.<br />usually to my favorite yogurt place. (they also have free HIGH SPEED wi-fi.)<br />and i get to drive on the megadike road to get there, which is my favorite road to drive.<br />or i go to sm. <br />or northwalk.<br />basta, i get in my car, Pipsy, and we drive.<br /><br />i haven’t been able to do this since i got back from Baguio.<br />i haven’t been able to do this because…<br />Sherwin wrecked Pipsy.<br />that’s why i was so upset the other day.<br /><br />why i was:<br />angry<br />rageful <br />okay<br />accepting<br />tearful<br />sad<br />homicidal<br />fine<br />numb<br />worried<br />nauseated<br />ek<br />ek.<br /><br />Sherwin is my neighbor.<br />he is the son of my landlady.<br />when i’m gone, he watches Pipsy for me.<br />and, i’m gone a lot.<br />Rowell says when i am gone, he sees Pipsy all around Sta. Rita.<br />that was fine.<br /><br />but, the day that i decided to reluctantly descend from Baguio, i had the unfortunate experience of being called by Sherwin at 5am, telling me that he had gotten into an “accident” with Pipsy. i asked him if he was injured. he was fine daw. i asked him if anyone else was injured. he said no one else was involved. i couldn’t take in any more information than that. he said he was waiting for the tow truck. i sighed heavily; then told him we would talk about it when i got home. he kept repeating, “‘Censya na, Karen. ‘Censya na talaga.” i hung up my phone and was like, “well, that was a shitty way to wake up.” then, i tried to convince myself to try and sleep pa. that there was nothing really useful i could do about what had happened. but my mind was whirring.<br /><br />what the HELL happened?<br />why did i trust Sherwin?<br />Pipsy! are you really gone?<br />are you totaled? beyond repair?<br />repairs. how much will they be?<br />i’m broke.<br />i just spent like P10,000 on registration, getting a tune up, fixing a tire rod end.<br />i’m so sorry i left you with Sherwin. <br />Pipsy! are you really gone?<br /><br />2 days prior, i had an intuition that i didn’t want to leave Pipsy with Sherwin while i was in the states for a month. i texted my friend, Ella, and asked if i could leave her with them. we were in the middle of arranging the logistics when this happened.<br /><br />and this really happened.<br />of course, i couldn’t sleep after i received the news. <br />i woke up.<br />and did distance reiki healing for Sherwin.<br />and Pipsy.<br />and then i did reiki on myself, because it was dawning on me how upset i was over this.<br />i think i was in denial as to how upset i was.<br />i’m still not really sure why.<br /><br />i wanted to scream.<br />at who? <br />for what?<br />did i really want to scream?<br /><br />i was so sad.<br />i think i even cried a little as i pulled my malong over my head.<br /><br />immediately, i felt this guilt. <br />why, oh, WHY didn’t i listen to my gut feeling to NOT leave the keys with Sherwin.<br />i wasn’t going to.<br />i was only going to be gone a week.<br />Pips would have been fine without being started.<br />but then the Ate Shella, the sister of Sherwin was getting married while i was gone.<br />and, it would be helpful to their family, if they had a car to use.<br />it was fiesta pa, and she was parked all crazy because there were so many cars parked on our street.<br />so, against my better judgement, i left the keys.<br /><br />i had many things to do before before coming back down to Sta. Rita, which would have been fine, if i weren’t feeling so crazy about what had happened with Pipsy.<br /><br />i still had to visit my family (again) before i left to say goodbye (again). <br />(it was a funny last minute request from Tita Eddy that i decided to honor, because well, she asked. and she’s 75. and, well, you just never know…i might not ever see her again.)<br /><br />i still had to pack up all my crap that was strewn all around the room i was staying in.<br />(ten ilocano blankets, alfajor, strawberry jam, ube jam, maps, books, clothes, etc.)<br /><br />i still had to go to easter weaving room to buy last minute pasalubong.<br />(never did make it up to banaue and sagada, so i couldn’t buy the bags that my Teacher was requesting. so, i decided to get something kinda similar at easter weaving and hope for the best…)<br /><br />i still had to write a thank you card to grace for a fantastic visit and letting me stay at her place, even when she was went to manila for 4 days.<br />(grace, true to her name, was a gracious hostess and excellent tour guide. we saw so much and ate so well. i had copies made of some of the pictures that we had taken together EVERYWHERE in Baguio. i couldn’t wait to give them to her. i bought this cute card made of flower petals and i had been drafting the words of how to express my gratitude for days.)<br /><br />i still had to climb onto a genesis bus with all of my crap and ride 8 hours (traffic) from Baguio to Sta. Rita. i SO did not want to deal with this situation. that’s the crux of the thing right there. i felt blindsided. this was so NOT part of the plan.<br /><br />and Pipsy, my poor sweet Pipsy.<br /><br />perhaps this is a good time to explore these feelings that i have about this car.<br />yes, i realize it is a car.<br />a thing.<br /><br />and here it is.<br />we have a relationship.<br />Pipsy kept me safe.<br />and sane.<br />we would have conversations together on our many long drives from one place to another. <br />she was my partner in crime.<br />especially when i lived in the clinic, she was the one safe place that i could climb into and feel…free. no clients could get at me. no crazy boss. no crazy relatives. no crazy friends. not even loneliness. Pipsy and i would ride out into the sunset. 75% of the time, her radio would work and i would rig up Poddie ni Muki, my ipod, and we would sing and drive.<br />and sing.<br />and drive.<br />we would go exploring together.<br />we would get lost together.<br />we would get found together.<br />we survived many near misses together.<br />we survived crazy weather.<br />we survived flat tires, dead batteries, oil leaks, etc.<br />we took care of each other.<br />when Sherwin said that he wasn’t injured, i thought, “well, it’s because Pipsy is a really good car and she protected him.”<br /><br />i saw pictures of her after the accident.<br />it was a fucking miracle that Sherwin wasn’t injured, wasn’t killed.<br />he was driving drunk at 2am.<br />he hit a patch of water on the way home from guagua and skidded.<br />he swerved to avoid hitting a tricycle and slammed into an acacia tree.<br />daw.<br /><br />that’s the whole sordid tale.<br />ah, not quite.<br />thankfully, Pipsy is fixable.<br />i’m not sure how.<br />but, she is.<br />and Sherwin’s family is able to pay for all of it.<br />it will take about a month for all of the repairs to be completed.<br />so, by the time i come back from the states, sana, she will be done.<br /><br />i think, in the beginning, it was difficult for me to accept that i was so upset over a thing.<br />it was more than a thing tho.<br />it’s about relationship.<br />Pips and me.<br />Sherwin and me.<br />etc.<br /><br />two nights ago, my phone rang.<br />my phone ring sounds like crickets chirping.<br />and, it’s not uncommon for me to think my phone is ringing when i hear actual crickets chirping. <br />and something should be said about how rare talaga it is for me hear my phone ring, let alone actually “talk” on my cell phone.<br />super duper, uber ultra, to the nth rare.<br />i use my cell phone primarily to text and keep track of dates.<br />and, lately, when my phone has been ringing, more often than not, it is after midnight, and more often than not, it has been because a certain crazy ilonggo boy just won’t stop.<br />but, anyway, my phone was ringing two nights ago, and i was sure it was this crazy ilonggo boy, but it wasn’t!<br /><br />it was Jodie!<br /><br />and we talked for well over an hour.<br />i had to plug in my phone.<br />there was this moment when i was listening to the sound of my voice talking.<br />it sounded strange because i realized that i hadn’t talked this much in days. <br />Rowell came over a couple of times. late, so we didn’t really talk too much.<br />i would greet my neighbors everyday, people on the street, as i walked.<br />my conversation with Sherwin about Pips was brief.<br />so, it was strange to hear my voice so much.<br /><br />i always enjoy my conversations with Jodie.<br />they are always entertaining, enlightening.<br />and deep.<br />she is a good mirror.<br />and she is magical.<br /><br />i’ve been noticing that i’ve been having trouble with verb tenses lately.<br />forget past participle, nominative case, etc.<br />i am just talking about simple past, present, and future tense.<br />i’ve been speaking and writing in present tense, even when i am referring to the past or future. it’s kinda strange because i’ve not really had trouble with that ever before.<br />and, i’ve had to edit this blog entry several times to get the tenses right.<br />weird.<br /><br />i hear the rain again.<br />Gayia comes on sunday.<br />and we will go to the monastery near Madapdap to hear mass in latin and Gregorian chanting. then eat yummy food at Azur and C.<br />my place is 75% clean, thanks to my being home so much.<br />another 25% to go.<br />Mang Ado came over yesterday and we finally hung my bamboo blinds and got some art on the walls. this enlisted drill bits and concrete hanger thingys and a couple of hours. but, my place looks great. hard to believe that i’ll be packing it up in 2 months.<br /><br />well, i’m here now./|\ Mukihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05959319700220999740noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4788840843432356537.post-60952547686389279632009-06-03T23:10:00.000-07:002009-06-03T23:36:48.232-07:00bed weatherhas been a useful exercise to re-read all the entries from this blog.<br />as i read, i flashback to the places i’ve written about.<br />where i was physically, emotionally.<br />what it smelled like.<br />what i ate that day.<br />even what i was wearing.<br /><br />bed weather continues here.<br />no blue sky for 4 days.<br />ventured out this morning to fetch water and went to the palengke.<br />p200 later, i have enough food to last me until i go the states on tuesday.<br /><br />and, YAHOOEY!<br />i’m going to the states on tuesday!<br />i’m honestly so looking forward to it.<br />it’s an odd feeling.<br />i’m actually giddy.<br />will be landing in sfo, instead of the usual vegas.<br />i’m paying for this ticket myself.<br />my parents didn’t get it for me.<br />my Center didn’t get it for me.<br />Me.<br />that feels good, too./|\ Mukihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05959319700220999740noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4788840843432356537.post-63702608264202711272009-06-03T03:04:00.000-07:002009-06-03T03:09:53.689-07:00two yearsi’ve been enjoying some mighty fine bed weather.<br />may bagyo sa Zambales. kaya umuulan dito sa sta. rita buong araw.<br /><br />i’ve seen Rowell twice since i came home from baguio.<br />the night i came home, he met me at the intersection to help me carry all my stuff.<br />then last night he came over and promptly fell asleep on my bed while i played guitar and sang.<br /><br />today, i was on facebook way too much, watched some movies, and finished “Pareng Barack” by Benjamin Pimental.<br /><br />i also spent some hours reading all the entries from this blog since it’s inception in june, two years ago.<br />how far i’ve come.<br /><br />two years of my life has been spent here in the Philippines.<br />hard to believe.<br />i’ve learned so much.<br />and i’m readying myself for my return to the States.<br />soon.<br /><br />i look around my apartment.<br />i see a lot of books.<br />and lots of trinkets and art.<br />i can name where and when i got each piece.<br />i flash forward in my mind already mentally packing boxes to be shipped ahead of me.<br /><br />what a strange thing that i’ve done.<br />it is perhaps the best gift i could ever have given myself.<br />there is writing that is percolating in my head.<br />pieces that are waiting to be born.<br />i flash forward to the babaylan conference in april 2010.<br />will be here soon.<br /><br />last night, Rowell asked me again, when i was leaving.<br />September.<br /><br />you won’t be here for my birthday.<br />no, friend, i won’t.<br /><br />then we both just looked at each other.<br />then he turned over and dozed off.<br />i continued playing my guitar and singing.<br /><br />still many things to do before i return to the States.<br />acupuncture apprenticeship with Benjie in Davao.<br />visit Betsy in Makilala.<br />visit Nonet in Aklan.<br />maybe Bunso in Boracay.<br />Pi and Lisette in Kalipay.<br />Drs. Turalba in Los Banos.<br />GCI in Zarraga.<br />Banaue and Sagada.<br /><br />back and forthing.<br />back.<br />forth.<br />Home./|\ Mukihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05959319700220999740noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4788840843432356537.post-88390023131716012372009-06-02T00:39:00.000-07:002009-06-02T00:50:49.746-07:00Trusti cycle faster than i used to.<br />before, i could get caught up in my emotions for days, weeks even.<br />before that, months.<br />years...<br /><br />i am discovering new things about myself.<br />new ways of living.<br />of being.<br />of Being.<br /><br />choices made.<br />making choices.<br /><span style="font-style:italic;">choice.</span><br /><br />it's so interesting to observe it.<br />this process.<br />to live it.<br />to see it, instead of unconsciously bungling my way through it, <br />inadvertently bulldozing all that used to lay in my path.<br /><br />i can still do that. <br />i still feel the impulses to do it even.<br />but, i don't.<br />i choose not to.<br />that's the perhaps hardest part.<br />when i choose not to indulge in a certain ingrained pattern of behavior.<br />it's not the relinquishing that's the hardest.<br />it's the not knowing what to do instead.<br />it's when i feel most vulnerable.<br />where i can i easily get distraught.<br /><br />and i know a Trust is being forged.<br />a Trust that i am being held.<br />that if i agree to keep stepping out into the Unknown, <br />it becomes Known.<br />and manageable.<br />and not so scary.<br />and it doesn't take very long.<br />and it's not so bloody, as it once was.<br /><br />strange.<br />and true./|\ Mukihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05959319700220999740noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4788840843432356537.post-52853073174090782642009-06-01T15:43:00.000-07:002009-06-01T16:19:23.265-07:00sweetsi know things happen for a reason.<br />and i know, more often than not, i won't understand that reason until way after.<br /><br />i know i am the sum total of those kinds of moments.<br /><br />the liminal space.<br />the space in between.<br />between the thing and the understanding of the thing.<br /><br />i'm there.<br />and i hate it.<br />it's painful.<br /><br />i want to scream my house down.<br />and hit.<br />and clench my fists so that my nails dig into my palms 'til they bleed.<br />anything but be in this moment.<br />and feel this pain.<br /><br />the person i am and am becoming knows to exhale.<br />and freeze frame.<br />and not hit.<br />and not self-mutilate (literally and figuratively).<br /><br />i will do my best to stay present to this pain.<br />to this impending grief.<br />this actual grief.<br />in a good way.<br />in a useful way.<br />in a growthful way.<br /><br />surrender.<br />i surrender.<br /><br />and it's most curious that my thoughts turn to you, sweets, during these kinds of moments.<br />i'm not sure why they do.<br /><br />and they do.<br />every time.<br /><br />i wonder if it is another form of distraction.<br />distraction from the present.<br />because you were so my past.<br />especially this version.<br /><br />perhaps a grain (or two) of truth in that.<br /><br />and...<br />when i look thru my biography, you were there the most in hard moments like this.<br />and i realize the value and preciousness of that.<br />the rarity.<br /><br />having someone present that gets it.<br />that shares it.<br /><br />it wasn't every time.<br />'specially near the end.<br />but it was enough for me to appreciate.<br />and learn to love.<br />myself.<br />you.<br /><br />i wonder if i am forever ruined.<br />searching for this intangible thing.<br />waiting for it even.<br /><br />is it comparing mind?<br />maybe.<br /><br />i am forever ruined.<br />and i'm glad for it, sometimes.<br />most the time.<br />but, i can't settle now.<br />that's the drawback.<br /><br />few are like fine tempered steel.<br />few can stand the heat of the fire that purifies.<br /><br />and, i live in this fire.<br />i live in this fire.<br />alone.<br /><br />there are moments when i share this space.<br />it's fleeting.<br />either they can't stand the heat.<br />or i can't stand them.<br /><br />yah.<br />ruined./|\ Mukihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05959319700220999740noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4788840843432356537.post-69514306883135964982009-05-21T23:57:00.001-07:002009-05-22T00:02:11.696-07:00Santa RitaSanta Rita is the patron saint of the impossible.<br />i don't suppose that it is mere coincidence that i've made my home here...<br /><br />even when i lived in the clinic in Madapdap, i lived on Sta. Rita Ave.<br />she is all around me.<br /><br />the church smells like roses.<br />kulay red./|\ Mukihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05959319700220999740noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4788840843432356537.post-90949716412813122292009-05-21T18:19:00.000-07:002009-05-21T18:41:39.587-07:00weary v. tiredtired goes away after you rest.<br />weary doesn't.<br /><br />either i haven't rested enough or <br />i'm more weary than i thought.<br /><br />i haven't been resting well these last weeks.<br />'tis true.<br />and still.<br /><br />i'm feeling a bit muddled.<br />and lonely.<br /><br />there's another one: alone vs. lonely.<br />i haven't the heart to qualify them now.<br />suffice it to say,<br />i don't mind alone so much.<br />lonely, i do.<br /><br />how is it that i can burn so bright.<br />and then...not.<br /><br />there is something about sustainability here.<br />i don't think i am tending the fire evenly.<br />i'm learning, i guess.<br />i realize that my tendency is to stay rather inward.<br />that it is, to varying degrees, a great summoning of will to go and stay outward.<br />and, it is easier, at times for me to maintain outward, depending on some things.<br /><br />the mix of folks.<br />my mood.<br />the subject at hand.<br />the impact and consequences of staying in.<br />what's at stake.<br />am i withholding the Dharma?<br />the impact and consequences of going out.<br />my energy.<br />how well i've been caring for myself...<br /><br />these last 4 days have been rather intense.<br />lots of connections.<br />different types of people.<br />me speaking out...<br />living, leading, loving...<br />from the heart.<br />steadying my quavering voice.<br />steeling my failing nerve.<br /><br />courage is born when i cannot bear things staying the same.<br />in the in-between space.<br /><br />i'm tired tho.<br />and weary.<br /><br />i woke up to the sounds of exuberant marching bands.<br />the rumbling of the tuba.<br /><br />it's fiesta time here.<br />i don't feel like being around people.<br />or celebrating.<br />or even talking.<br /><br />so, i won't.<br />until i do.<br /><br />and i won't 'til it's absolutely called for./|\ Mukihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05959319700220999740noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4788840843432356537.post-46208010762800900412009-05-21T03:31:00.001-07:002009-05-21T03:49:45.319-07:00not quite the lasti'm not quite working my last nerve...<br />but, i tell ya, i ain't that far off.<br /><br />whirlwind last 3 days or so.<br />is it 3?<br />they are blurring together.<br /><br />i'm on my way home na from manila.<br />spent some time in weird makati.<br />reconnected with some innerdancers.<br />met some new ones.<br /><br />i'll be home in sta. rita for one day.<br />(it'a all about laundry!)<br />then back to weird makati to dance on saturday.<br />then sunday, i have reiki level II.<br />then sunday night, dinner and spend time with tesa in paranaque.<br />then monday, climb onto a bus and head to baguio.<br />and then grace for couple of days.<br /><br />then banaue. <br />then sagada.<br />and alone time.<br /><br />thank<br />the <br />Goddess./|\ Mukihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05959319700220999740noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4788840843432356537.post-30484934682452885432009-05-18T12:16:00.000-07:002009-05-18T12:34:36.819-07:00roused from sleepwho is pulling my energy?<br />roused from sleep again.<br />it's been like this like for the last 8 days or so.<br />not every night, but maybe 5 of 8.<br />2:30ish, i wake up because i feel someone calling my name.<br />is it you?<br />what is it that you want?<br />it's more than missing me.<br />what is it?<br />it's someone(s) in the states.<br />i've texted the usual suspects and they say 'nopes' or 'just a little.'<br />this feels bigger. <br /><br />i feel like that part in clash of the titans when andromeda's astral body gets up every night and goes into that gilded cage thingy of that horrible vulture and is flown to calibos every night.<br /><br />i'm tired, friend.<br /><br />i wish i knew who you are.<br />and i wish you would contact me directly so that we could talk.<br />and we could lay to rest whatever it is.../|\ Mukihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05959319700220999740noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4788840843432356537.post-24420678974439681652009-05-16T20:22:00.000-07:002009-05-16T20:25:34.148-07:00wrenchedi’m listening to this playlist i made called wrench.<br />many of these songs are lifted.<br /><br />behold the magic of music!<br />our whole story is in this playlist.<br /><br />i really should start charging you rent (again).<br /><span style="font-style:italic;">something in me still needs this pain</span>.<br /><br /><br />the first time i saw you, i loved you. <br />when i hurt you, i wanted to give birth to you, give birth to you.<br />i made love to you. <br />i made love to you. <br />the great Goddess had us blessed.<br />the last time i saw you, i fought with you; i fought with you.<br />i didn’t mean to.<br />i didn’t mean to.<br />the next time you’ll see me, let me say sorry.<br />the next time i see you, i love you.<br />i’ll be sweet to you.<br />i’ll take you to my healing room.<br />o, we both know how loneliness goes.<br />everytime i see you, i want you.<br />i want you.<br />the more i do, you hate me, too.<br />but the great Goddess has us blessed.<br /><br /><br /><br />you’re so far away and what can i say.<br />‘cause i can’t be the one you wanted me to be.<br />so tell me how does you feel?<br />it’s so confusing.<br />so what are we saying?<br />our Eden’s a failure?<br />a made up story to fit a picture perfect world?<br />and we are made for each other is forever over now.<br />i hope there’s forgiveness in the distance between us.<br />can we make what lies ahead of us a better place to be?<br /><br /><br /><br />have you seen?<br />have not, will travel.<br />have i missed the big reveal?<br />do my eyes, do my eyes seem empty?<br />i’ve forgotten how this feels.<br />i’ve been high.<br />i’ve climbed so high.<br />but now sometimes it washes over me.<br />have you been?<br />have done, will travel.<br />i fell down on my knees.<br />was i wrong?<br />i don’t know; don’t answer.<br />i just needed to believe.<br />so i dive into a pool so cool and deep,<br />that if i sink, i sink<br />and when i swim, i fly so high.<br />what i want, what i want is <br />just to live my life on high.<br />and i know<br />i know you want the same.<br />i can see it in your eyes.<br /><br /><br /><br />all your ways and all your thunder,<br />got me in a haze, running for cover.<br />where we gonna go from here?<br />where we gonna go from here?<br />700 places<br />700 faces<br />in fact, your eyes look like my mother’s.<br />when we talk, you’re like my brother.<br />where we gonna go from here?<br />where we gonna go from here?<br />it’s bigger than the ocean, bigger than my design.<br />all your ways and all your thunder, <br />got me in a haze, running for thunder.<br />now, i’ve waited, and i’ll wait some more.<br />won’t see me knocking on another door.<br />but, all this is crazy and amazing.<br />‘cause only one half of us that i’ve saving.<br />so, i’m praying just to let it go.<br />watch from a distance just to see you glow.<br />700 places<br />700 faces<br /><br /><br /><br />am i faithful?<br />am i strong?<br />am i good enough to belong?<br />your vision of romance is cruel.<br />all your expectations bury me.<br />don’t worry.<br />you will find the answers if you let it go.<br />give your time some time to falter.<br />don’t forego knowing that you are loved no matter what.<br />everything will come around in time.<br />i own my insecurities, try to own my destiny.<br />i can make it, break it if i choose.<br />you take my words and twist them round.<br />‘til i’m the one who brings you down<br />make me feel like i’m the one to blame for all this.<br />you need everybody with you on your side<br />know that i am here for you<br />but i hope in time<br />you’ll find yourself alright alone<br />you’ll find yourself with open arms<br />you’ll find yourself<br />you’ll find yourself <br />in time<br />a riot in my heart decides<br />to keep me open and alive,<br />i have to take myself away from you.<br />‘cause i can’t compete<br />i can’t deny<br />there’s nothing that i didn’t try.<br />how did i go so wrong in loving you?<br /><br /><br /><br />it could all be so simple.<br />but you’d rather make it hard.<br />loving you is like a battle<br />and we both end up with scars<br />tell me who i have to be<br />to get some reciprocity<br />see, no one loves you more than me<br />and no one ever will.<br />is this just a silly game?<br />that forces you to act this way<br />forces you to scream my name <br />then pretend that you can’t stay<br />i keep letting you back in<br />how can i explain myself<br />as painful as this thing has been<br />i just can’t be with no one else<br />see i know what we’ve got to do<br />you let go<br />and i’ll let go too<br />‘cause no one’s hurt me more than you<br />and no one ever will<br />no matter how i think we grow<br />you always seem to let me know: it ain’t working.<br />it ain’t working.<br />and when i try to walk away, you’d hurt yourself to make me stay.<br />this is crazy.<br />this is crazy.<br />this is crazy.<br />care for me, care for me<br />you’d say you’d care for me<br />there for me, there for me<br />you said you’d be there for me<br />cry for me, cry for me<br />you said you’d die for me<br />give to me, give to me<br />why won’t you live for me?<br />where were you when i needed you?<br /><br /><br /><br />forgive.<br />sounds good.<br />forget.<br />i’m not sure i could.<br />they say time heals everything.<br />i’m still waiting.<br />i’m thru with doubt<br />there’s nothing left for me to figure out<br />i’ve paid a price<br />and i’ll keep paying<br />i’m not ready to make nice<br />i’m not ready to back down<br />i’m still mad as hell and i don’t have time to go round and round and round<br />it’s too late to make it right<br />prolly wouldn’t if i could<br />‘cause i’m mad as hell to do what it is you think i should<br />i know you’ve said<br />can’t you just get over it?<br />it turned my whole world around<br />and i kinda like it.<br /><br /><br /><br />if i fall along the way, pick me up and dust me off<br />and if i get too tired to make, be my breath so i can walk<br />if i need some other love then, give me more than i can stand<br />and when my smile gets old and faded, wait around; i’ll smile again.<br />shouldn’t be so complicated<br />just hold me and then<br />just hold me again<br />can you help me?<br />i’m bent.<br />i’m so scared that i’ll never get put back together<br />keep breakin’ me in<br />and this is how we will end<br />whether you and me bend<br />and if i couldn’t sleep, could you sleep?<br />could you paint me better off?<br />could you sympathize with my needs?<br />i know you think i need a lot.<br />i started out clean but i’m jaded.<br />just phonin’ it in<br />just breakin’ the skin<br /><br /><br /><br />so she woke up, woke up from where she was lying still<br />said i gotta do something about where we’re goin’<br />run from the darkness in the night<br />sweet the sin<br />bitter the taste in my mouth<br />i see 7 towers<br />but i only see one way out<br />you gotta cry without weeping<br />talk without speaking<br />scream without raising your voice<br /><br /><br /><br />hit the ground babe<br />it’s all right now<br />hit the ground baby<br />take your veil down<br />see your eyes in mine<br />leave the rest behind<br />hit the ground<br />‘cause i want to love you now.<br /><br /><br />i’ve been waiting for you<br />i’ve been waiting for you<br />never found anything else but waiting for you<br />i’ve been calling your name<br />i’ve been calling your name<br />never found anything else the same, nothing’s the same<br />you can kill a lot of time, if you really put your mind to it<br />or leave it all behind and never really have to go thru it<br />i keep hearing your name<br />i keep hearing your name<br />nothing else sounds same, as hearing your name.<br /><br /><br /><br />i’m a liar.<br />it’s my secret no one knows.<br />i’m a liar.<br />yea, i know it doesn’t show.<br />no, i don’t miss you anymore.<br />no, i don’t think of you.<br />it’s such a game to seem adored.<br />no, i don’t love you anymore.<br /><br /><br /><br />no earthly church has blessed our union.<br />no state has ever granted us permission<br />no family bond has made us two<br />no company has ever owned commission<br />no debt was paid<br />no dowry to gained<br />no treaty over borderland or power<br />no semblance of a world remained<br />to state the beauty of this nuptial hour<br />the secret marriage vow<br />is never spoken<br />the secret marriage can never be broken<br /><br /><br /><br />girl you are rich even with nothing<br />and you know tenderness comes from pain<br />it’s amazing how you love<br />love is kind <br />love can give <br />and get no gain<br />it’s down a rugged road you’ve come<br />tho you had every reason, you didn’t come undone<br />somehow, you made it to the other side<br />you didn’t suffer in vain<br />you forgive those who have trespassed against you<br />and you know tenderness comes from pain<br />it’s amazing you love.<br /><br /><br /><br />you are the most beautiful thing i’ve ever seen<br />you shine just like sunlight rains on a winter snow<br />i just had to tell you so<br />your eyes sparkle as the stars<br />like the moon that glows<br />your smile could light the world on fire<br />or did you know?<br />your mind is full of everything that i wanna know<br />i just had to let you know<br />i just had to tell you so<br />you’re my butterfly.<br />fly<br />fly<br />fly<br />fly<br /><br /><br /><br /><br />don’t let me down<br />don’t let me down<br />don’t let me down<br />don’t let me down<br />nobody ever loved me like she does<br />and if somebody loved like she do me<br />i’m in love for the first<br />don’t you know it’s gonna last<br />it’s a love that lasts forever<br />it’s a love that has no past<br /><br /><br /><br /><br />set myself on fire<br />only thing that’s in your head<br />don’t deny this<br />burning from the things you said.<br /><br /><br /><br />i drink good coffee in the morning<br />comes from a place that’s far away<br />when i’m done, i feel like talking<br />without you here, there is less to say<br />don’t want you thinking i’m unhappy.<br />what is closer to the truth<br />that if i lived til i was 102,<br />i just don’t think i’ll ever get over you.<br />no longer drink to drink strong whiskey<br />i shook the hand of Time and i knew that <br />if i lived til i could no longer climb my stairs,<br />i just don’t think i’ll ever get over you.<br />your face it dances and it haunts me<br />your laughter is still ringing in my ears<br />i still find pieces of your presence here even, even after all these years<br />don’t want you thinking that i don’t get asked out to dinner<br />‘cause i’m here to say that i sometimes do/|\ Mukihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05959319700220999740noreply@blogger.com0